Booker, Catch!
by TotalOatmeal
Summary: Booker has a little problem about Elizabeth's throwing antics.
1. What the hell is wrong with your aim?

"Uh... Hello?" Booker Dewitt said at the girl looking, terrified. She shrieked, and he fell down to the floor hard. She flung books about quantum physics and the whatnot, but Booker was more focused on not being hit by a book-wielding frightened girl.

"Hey, would you- WOULD YOU STOP THAT?"

* * *

"Found something!" Elizabeth yelled as she threw a bottle of salts at her companion, Booker Dewitt.

"Much obliged!" as Dewitt caught the tossed bottle, and drank quickly, as he started to use his vigors to dominate the battle.

Dewitt thought as the attack from the Columbian police was over, "The girl is pretty useful...", and walked up to a vending machine.

"Hmm..." He said as his hand absently drifted to his wallet as he checked for what he needed.

His wallet felt light, and looked inside. "Let's see, seventeen silver eagles..." He frowned as he came across a picture of his beloved deceased wife. "A Pinkerton badge... and a stick of gum. "Dammit", he thought as he chewed the piece of gum. He looked around, and noticed Elizabeth absent. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth!" He shouted, looking for the girl. Elizabeth's voice shouted, "Over here!" and Booker came to her.

"Need this?" As she threw a silver eagle. But somehow, in his hand, it became a pile of coins. Booker had no complaint, but wondered how in the world she did that. He shrugged it off, thanked her, and bought a First Aid Kit, and some ammunition.

* * *

In the heat of battle, as the Vox Populi were aiding Booker, Dewitt ran out of Salts. Seeing none in sight, he looked around. "Dammit!" he cursed, as the Vox stormed the place.

"Booker, catch!" As Elizabeth seemingly pulled a bottle out of nowhere. "The hell..." He mumbled to himself, and caught the salts, and drank. He went back, his Hand Cannon dispatching each soldier in a mere minute, with the aid of Bucking Bronco. His revolver went dry, and cursed once more. "Here!" Elizabeth exclaimed, as she threw a seemingly light, reloaded, Hand Cannon toward him, which went heavy, and hit him in the gut. He would've yelled at her poor aim, but seeing as how there were deadly soldiers with death-spewing machines, he ignored the pain in the stomach, and fought on.

* * *

Blood from his hand smeared onto the wall, as the mercenary was leaning, near death, his shield not recharging yet.

"Catch!" the feminine voice yelled. The bag filled with sharp instruments hit him in the face, and thus he was knocked out, his head hitting the ground, as he groaned, "Elizabeth..." But the girl was already gone, looking for more trinkets to forcefully throw at her companion.

* * *

As the Pinkerton fought against his new enemies, Booker emptied all his ammo in his shotgun. "Dammit! Elizabeth!?", "I'm looking!" and a coin was tossed to him. "The hell am I going to do with this? Elizabeth?!" But she was already gone, and the nearest vending machine was being blocked by the Vox. Crap.

"I found something!" Booker's female companion exclaimed, and when Dewitt faced her, a heavy shotgun was flung to his face, knocking him over onto the ground, Elizabeth not giving any apology.

* * *

"Elizabeth... We need to talk." Booker sighed as they walked down the bloodied street.

"About what?" She questioned.

Booker, fatigued, took a seat on one of the tables outside one of the abandoned restaurants, as she took one too.

"Listen... Elizabeth, what the hell is wrong with you aim?"

"My aim at what? You're the one who's shooting, not me."

"At throwing."

"Throwing?"

"Yes, listen, haven't you noticed you hitting me with several dangerous objects, particularly glass bottles, heavy guns, and books?"

"What are you talking about? I've got everything to you, right?"

"Yes but-"

"But what?" Elizabeth pouted, obviously upset that Booker isn't impressed at her magnificent throwing skills.

"It's hurting me."

Elizabeth frowned, got up, but not before she threw a full bottle of salts at Booker's face, dead center on his nose.

* * *

"Elizabeth..." Booker called as they walked the lively streets of Columbia.

"What do you need, Mr. Dewitt who doesn't need my services."

Booker sighed. "First of all, I can live without your "services", and second, that's a horrible insult." She frowned, a look of passive anger at him.

"Hmph." She pouted. "Elizabeth, stop acting like a child." She faced away from him. " Hey, c'mon, I'm sorry." He pleaded as he tried to make him face her. After several failed attempts, he stopped.

"Booker."

Dewitt faced her. "Catch." As a fistful of mud splattered on his face, and Elizabeth ran laughing, while Dewitt wiped away the grime and chased her around the streets, as the people watched them.


	2. All you had to do was say please

"Hey Booker!" Elizabeth yelled as Dewitt was busy fighting crazy patriotic people. "Bit busy!" He yelled back.

"Booker!" she still yelled. "You need this!".

"No I don't!" I have plenty of am-

"Catch!" A rifle was flung through the air, onto Dewitt's back. He yelled back, "Dammit Elizabeth, I told you, I don't need ammo!", at the cost of having a bullet go through his arm. "Ah, god-"

"Catch!" His female companion yelled out, as a heavy medkit flew threw the air, hitting him squarely on the face.

""It's just a flesh wound, I can walk-" He said as he was interrupted by another rifle was thrown at his gut.

"Fu-"

"Language, Mr. Dewitt!" Elizabeth said, as she then saw Booker being knocked out by a guard with a baton, and she rushed toward him, guards seemingly not noticing her, and dragged him to the last place they had been before founder police found them. That was a mile and a half away.

* * *

"Elizabeth!" The former Pinkerton yelled out in distress. "I'm looking!" she shouted back.

The odds were stacked against them. Ten, no twenty soldiers were right in front of the piece of rubble that the detective was hiding in. Plus, a Handyman. Booker had almost no ammo, and a measly skyhook. It all depended on her.

"Where is it?!" He yelled, as fiery death was being shot at above his head.

"Don't rush me!" She whined. "Ah!"

"Finally-" He caught in his hand a couple of coins. "Elizabeth?! We've been over this!"

"The nearest vendor is right ahead!" And there was also a small army up ahead too. With a giant hairless gorrilapig manslave.

"..." Booker sat in complete silence, then looked at his skyhook, and spun it up. "Well, it's you and me."

* * *

Well, Booker some how survived being murdered. He had defeated them all (with no help from Elizabeth) with a few decapitations and unbridled rage.

He looked at the coins in his had , and put them in his wallet. He had grabbed an RPG earlier, and he only had three rockets. But what were the chances of him using it?

"Hey, Mr. Dewitt, don't you think you should buy more rockets?" Elizabeth suggested.

"Meh." He simply shrugged off, as he walked on.

"Oh, okay.", she said.

_A few minutes later..._

He had been ambushed, but from the Vox Populi. He didn't get it, why ambush after ambush. It wasn't like they could kill him, since he had a shield that virtually protected him from bullets, fire, electricity, mud, and... a kick to the balls (unfortunately, he had received this from a Founder policewoman, and it still hurt like hell), and all they had were... skin and clothes, I guess. He even wished that instead of another surprise attack, they probably could do something original, like, set fire to the rain or something like that... Yeah, that would be a bit more challenging.

As he finished off the last one, a huge transport came up, and a Fireman came down, bursting with rage.

Booker whipped out his Hand Cannon, and pulled the trigger, and it only clicked, which left him with a RPG, with only three rockets.

He made for the skyline, Elizabeth following.

"Booker!" She exclaimed. "Catch!"

"At this time? Seriously?", but unfortunately for him, she threw the reloaded RPG anyway, knocking him off the skyline, falling to the ground and breaking his shield, and just so happened to land in front of the fireman.

* * *

"Hey, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Mr. Dewitt?"

"I told you, it's Booker, now, do you mind tossing me a few coins? I'm hungry."

There was a long pause. No response.

"Well?" He asked.

One of the servers selling soda spoke up, "Hey, that's no way to treat a lady." Dewitt turned red in the face, and shut up, while Elizabeth snickered. Soon, they came across another vending machine, and Booker was starving. He pleaded and begged, while she simply faced away, while observing a silver eagle in her hand.

"Elizzzaaabettthh..." Booker was on the ground, stomach growling like Chewbacca. "Could you just. Give. Me. The. Goddamn. Eagle?". A few fancy schmancy women passed by, laughed at him.

"Nope." She simply said. Then, a sudden idea came into Booker's mind. "How about we make a trade? Paris for the Eagle?" It was pathetic, but Elizabeth bit her nail in anxiety. What if she could go? What if she can go to Paris, with all the escargot and films and whatever the French had, just for a measly Eagle? "I got her now." Booker simpered. "Wait... that sounded wrong... Dammit Booker, stay on topic, I'm not courting... I just need that eagle!" He thought, holding his hands together in a begging fashion.

"Hmmm..."

"Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease" Dewitt's mind raced.

"...Nah!" She said, and laughed off a horrified, and hungry Dewitt, and put the coins into the slot, and bought a cotton candy.

Booker had to go beg from the streets.

_Later..._

Booker managed to scrounge up some money and bought some sandwiches from a nearby deli, a angry look on his face when he found Elizabeth enjoying cotton candy and playing with children. He took her forcefully by the hand, and led her away.

"Hey! What gives?"

He turned to face her. "You left me starving, and made me go through the humiliation of asking for money on the STREETS!"

They walked together, with an awkward silence between both of them, until Elizabeth quietly said,

"All you had to do was say please."

* * *

"Booker?" Elizabeth asked, "Are you afraid of God?"

He wasn't much religious, but he did try to be baptized by that pastor, and that other pastor (which was more of a drowning), and he did fear God in some way, but...

He thought of Elizabeth. From her special abilities to make tears, to knocking him out with a wrench to even creating a whole world and starving him. But, nothing, was more deadlier, than her aim.

"No." He pointed at her. "But I'm afraid of you."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Jeez, bad luck must be the central theme for my stories. Anyways, expect another chapter of What's In a Gun, and thanks for reading!**


End file.
